


Breathing easily

by talula



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talula/pseuds/talula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Self-indulgent grief-fluff. That sounds like a horrible invention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing easily

Stiles almost forgets that the anniversary of his mother’s death is coming up until he’s in the checkout line at the grocery store and he sees the manager hanging a thin cardboard sign that says ‘back to school’ with a picture of a chalkboard and a pencil on it. The middle aged-man climbs down the ladder and Stiles watches as the sign spins idly and innocently from the ceiling. A sudden tightness pulls in Stiles’ chest and his heartbeat speeds up to where he can feel it thrumming throughout his body. 

There was a time he might have bolted out of the store, leaving his cart. Except it’s his turn to cook and he needs these groceries for dinner. So he takes a deep breath, puts on his ‘everything’s ok’ look and pushes his cart forward. He smiles at the cashier, assuring her he found everything okay. Even though that’s a stupid question anyway. No one gets what they’re really looking for, certainly not in a grocery store. 

Stiles knows what he’s looking for can’t be found, there’s no fixing it, and no escaping the most horrible part; that he has to go on. He knows no matter how heartbroken he is, his heart keeps beating, keeping him alive. No matter how empty and heavy his arms feels, he carries the groceries inside. No matter how much he feels like crying and throwing chairs against the wall and asking why no one else is falling apart, he stirs the low sodium spaghetti sauce and browns tofu and says, “Hey Dad! I’m making you meatballs!” 

And his Dad, who he can tell with a look is getting the same sadness, the same restlessness under his skin, smiles softly, puts down the mail on the kitchen table, says “No, you’re not,” and pulls him into a hug, kissing the top of his head. 

After that, he can breathe a little better, the pain unknots in his chest just down to manageable.  
*************************************************************************************

It’s three days before school starts, and Stiles is idly clicking around the news stories of the day, scanning, as he does now, for supernatural occurrences or mountain lion attacks, when he realizes what he was doing this time last year; hanging off of Scott’s roof, running around in the woods looking for a dead body. He wasn’t thinking at the time that that dead body belonged to a girl that once was alive. He wasn’t thinking that the girl meant something to someone. It was the day before school started that he and Scott went into the woods, so maybe it was the day before, or even maybe the day before that when Laura was killed. 

Before he can think about it, Stiles is in his car, wondering if maybe Derek is back at the Hale House, brooding over the spot where he buried Laura. Or maybe he’s in his little train car, which is just weird in almost as many ways as living in the burnt out house. Suddenly, he slams on his brakes in front of Isaac’s house. Derek’s car is in the driveway. Stiles comes up with eight different, fully formed, terrifying scenarios as to why Derek is at Isaac’s house, including Derek having gone insane at the Hale house, ripping up floorboards, and now being chained up in Isaac’s basement. Also included are Derek dying of a wolfbane’s bullet, getting an appendage sawed off (and thanks very much for that lifelong nightmare, Derek), and Derek having decided to kill Isaac, reasonable reason on that one actually not completed at this time.

Stiles is almost breathless when Derek finally swings open the door after what feels like forever of persistent panicked knocking. Derek is wiping his hands on a dishcloth, calm as anything, with a bit of a confused expression on his face. 

“Are you-“ Stiles starts, and then falters. “Are you washing the dishes?” He looks over Derek’s shoulder and sees Isaac laying on the couch watching something on television. “Are you casually hanging out at Isaac’s and washing dishes?” He bends over and laughs. “Jesus, you are.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just quirks an eyebrow higher.

“I realized that today might be the day one year ago that Laura died. And I thought you might be freaking out. Because I realized I’d never seen you freaking out. Even when I like, accused you of killing her, you didn’t even like, have an expression. And you never talk about her. So I thought maybe you had saved up your freaking out for this day. Because see, my freaking out about my mom is like, panic-attack maybe, rude-to-people maybe, sit-in-my-room-and-cry-all-day kind of freaking out, so like I thought, Whoa, what if I was a werewolf, and it was still the first year without her, and also, hadn’t freaked out yet. So I thought you might be freaking out in a super saved up, first year, werewolf power, never freaked out kind of freak out.”

Derek looks down once he realizes what the speech was about, sighs heavily, but looks up again, holding the dishtowel limp by his side, the other hand fidgeting from his ear, to his hip, to finally being shoved in his pocket while Stiles finishes his rant. 

“But ok,” Stiles continues when Derek remains silent. “Obviously you’re ok, and having a pack dinner, and I’m just going to-“

“It’s tomorrow,” Derek says suddenly. Then he moves aside from the door, and gestures with his dishtowel hand. “There’s leftovers.”

And if Stiles has ever said no to leftovers, or hell, ever said no to Derek, he doesn’t remember it, so he goes in.  
*************************************************************************************  
Hours later, after watching the first two Back To The Future’s, with Stiles pointing out all the incorrect science, Isaac pointing out all the creepy kissing-your-mom points, and Derek being generally silent, Stiles says he should probably get back home. Derek follows him silently into the hallway after a moment, and Isaac pretends not to notice. 

“Thank you,” Derek says, quietly, as Stiles is taking too long to zip up his hoodie, trying to wait for Derek to catch up and say something.

Stiles fidgets with the zipper some more, as if the exact amount it’s zipped up is crucial before going outside. “So, look, I wanted to say that I was really sorry for my part in-“

Derek puts a hand on his shoulder. “Tomorrow,” he says, and Stiles stops.

“Where do you think you’ll be? In case, there’s like, a wolf emergency, or something, and Scott is his usual no-where-to-be-found self.”

Derek looks as if he’s actually thinking about it, like he hasn’t thought about it yet.

“Maybe the stream? By the bridge? In the morning?” Derek says it too casually, and Stiles can hear the question underneath, that he’ll never ask.

“Yeah, that sounds ok,” Stiles says, answering the question, and leaves.  
*************************************************************************************

Stiles doesn’t know Derek’s definition of morning, so he gets up early, while it’s still dark and makes two mugs of coffee. He leaves his dad a note about attending a Battle Royale to the Death hunting game to see who will be class valedictorian, signs his name, and then underneath writes ‘at scott’s.’ On the way out, he texts Scott a quick *cover for me* Scott doesn’t know what he’s doing, but Stiles knows it doesn’t matter. He knows Scott won’t even text back, and will only call if his dad comes looking for him. Sometimes it’s nice to have a best friend. Even if the day to day gets lost, they have their things they don’t forget. 

Derek, of course, is already there, sitting on a rock and looking at the water. The sky is almost light. He sits next to him, and hands him a thermos. “I made it extra sugary, like I know you like it.”

“That’s the way you like it,” Derek says, but opens it and takes a drink anyway.

“Yeah, well, unless you start talking more, I’m going to just assume you like everything the same way I do.”

Derek actually maybe almost smiles then, then sighs.

“So why the stream?” Stiles asks, as if he’s asking about something else completely.

There’s no hesitation when Derek says, “Because she’s not anywhere. It doesn’t matter.” He takes another sip of the coffee, “And I know you like the forest.”

Stiles tries to put his thermos down, and it falls, tries to recover it and almost falls himself, realizing how close he is to the stream, points an accusatory finger at the rushing water, then finally rests the thermos safely on its side against the rock. “Derek,” he says finally, and when he turns he thinks he sees a flicker of amusement on Derek’s face. “This day isn’t about me.”

“Can it be?”

“What? Can it be what?”

“Can it be about you?” 

Stiles opens his mouth, then closes it, actually speechless with confusion.

“Look,” Derek continues. “You and me, we’re the ones here, in this forest, we’re the ones alive. All these people that I-my family are gone. Ever since the fire- well, I only thought about what I had lost, and didn’t think about what I still had. And then- and then I lost her too. I wasn’t paying enough attention to still having Laura, and I lost her too.”

The water rushes by, some birds chirp somewhere far off, Stiles repositions himself on the rock, Derek sits still and calm, as if he hasn’t just said the most words he’s said put together in the last year, or talked about something he has never ever talked about with anyone. Stiles knows this, and knows that Derek has probably never asked anyone for what he needs on a bad day. Stiles definitely knows what it’s like to try and be talked out of what he needs on a bad day; how many times someone told him he just needed to get out of his room and go do something, or needed to think about what she would have wanted, to tell him he was going to be ok. He knows better than to argue with anything Derek wants today, and all at once, he knows he won’t. 

“I do really like this forest. Lots of trees.” They sit there a while longer.  
************************************************************************************  
They continue on with the unspoken agreement that Derek is deciding what they do, meaning doing what he thinks Stiles wants to do. They go to see a cheesy horror movie at the theater, Derek looking over for the briefest moment to see if Stiles agrees at the ticket window. He does, even if he doesn’t say anything. As if the kid can hide anything from being written out clearly on his face. Stiles gets a full on smile when Derek keeps adding more and more butter to the popcorn, until Stiles says, “All right, dude, really that’s enough.” And Derek actually laughs, throws his head back and everything, and for a minute they stand there, smiling at each other, until someone else comes behind them for the butter and they have to move along.

Next they go to the diner, where Stiles very purposefully keeps his mouth very shut when the waitress asks for their order and Derek has to order for the both of them. Then he almost falls out of the booth when Derek says, “Ok, so Batman versus Superman versus Ironman versus Xena. Go ahead and start.” Stiles only gapes for a moment at Derek’s strange expression of satisfaction until he starts rambling. Derek leans back to take it in, scoffing every now and again when Stiles insults Batman.

Stiles is halfway into his rant about the abilities of Xena versus the ability of Xena plus Gabrielle, and Derek really should have specified because there’s many differences, when Derek starts staring out the window. His eyes are soft, far away, but the lines around them hard. His arms are crossed, and he looks like he has been able to pull further away from Stiles than humanly possible. Stiles knows that feeling, too. Has even named it in his head as The Sudden Inability To Continue To Focus On Stupid Conversation. He remembers times when he and Scott would be talking about the new Metal Gear Solid and then all of a sudden he wanted to punch him for caring about something so stupid, god, didn’t he know his mom was dead, what kind of shitty best friend was he? 

Stiles stops talking abruptly and says, “I’m done. If there’s somewhere you’re ready to go to, I mean, if there’s somewhere you want to be.” 

Derek looks up sharply, but Stiles knows he understands, is giving him an out from the All!Stiles day, letting him know he can go anywhere he wants now even if it’s by himself. 

“I want to show you something,” and Derek must use his werewolf power to throw money on the table, put his jacket on, and grab Stiles by the wrist, because it all happens in three seconds. 

Derek drives them to the Hale house, and Stiles feels a dread building in his stomach, thinking of him with the smashing and the pulling up of floorboards, but he tries to school his heartbeat to a normal pace. He doesn’t want Derek to read him as scared of him. Not today. 

He follows Derek into the house, and then into a bedroom that looks fairly intact. It has a door and everything. It’s obviously his mother’s room, a small vanity by the door to the closet. Which is where Derek heads without hesitation, disappears, makes a racket (and oh my god, he’s pulling up floorboards isn’t he) and then sighs loudly, saying to himself, “It’s still here.” Stiles is still by the door, thinking about taking a step, when Derek comes out with a large wooden chest. His face looks almost happy, relieved maybe, and he says “Stiles, it’s all still here.” As if it’s an answer to a question he’d been worried about for years. 

Over the next hour, Derek hands him things out of the chest, mostly papers, marriage and birth certificates, diplomas (not Derek’s, and Stiles is reminded that Derek’s mom didn’t live long enough to see him graduate high school, just like his own mom), child’s drawings with the names and dates written on the back and sometimes a little quote (there’s one of a shaky smiley face that says in beautifully slanted handwritten ‘Derek; June 4th 1994; ‘It’s a picture of me, Derek, I’m so happy’’ and Stiles tries to imagine the moment when a happy four year old handed that to his mom and she laughed, thinking ‘oh, I’m saving this one.’ Stiles is incredible happy she did), handwritten recipes, favorite poems and quotes, a few letters from a camp, a werewolf family tree with swirling branches that look to be etched in gold, a few books of lore, some diagrams of fighting techniques and a page written in the same handwriting that says ‘The Hale Family Code.’ 

Derek talks about most of the items, commenting on each one as he passes them to Stiles, like, “Oh, that’s Laura’s letters from camp. You’ll have to read them later. She hated it, and she made each person into something evil, like Sally the Succubus. My mom thought it was hysterical.”

“Will you help me save it?” Derek says at the end, before Stiles has a chance to actually fully read any of it. 

“What? How?”

Derek makes a motion making his hand move horizontally. “You know, scan it into your computer, so it can’t be lost if I lose the trunk?”

“Oh course,” Stiles says quickly. “Of course I can. Do you want to bring it over tonight?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, and Stiles can’t get over the look on his face, like he’s five years younger, like he doesn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders, like he might be smiling. “Yeah, I know you like to have dinner with your dad.” And then he definitely is smiling, because Stiles is smiling right back at him, a stupid big grin, “So let’s go now.”  
************************************************************************************  
Having dinner with his dad, Derek, and Scott is something that Stiles thinks would be weird, but it’s surprisingly not. He had texted Scott on the way over *sos, need you at dinner*, and he had been in the driveway before they got there. Stiles had told his dad that Derek was helping them with a special school project about family heirlooms for history class. He panicked for a moment when he remembered school hadn’t even started yet. But his dad’s face went from skeptical to soft. He looked at Derek as if he was seeing him for the first time, as if he just realized that he lost his family. He looked at Stiles, back at Derek and then said, casually, “I hope you like pretend meat, because it’s all we have.”

Scott talks a lot about Allison, and it keeps things from getting too quiet, fills in any awkward silences between conversations about football teams. Something Derek and his dad agree on, and then have a long conversation about ‘our’ couch and ‘our’ decisions in the draft this year, which Stiles mocks and asks his dad if he wants the calls from the owner to go straight to the office next time. Derek gives him a look, as if he should be nicer to his father, and amazingly, Stiles stops abruptly. He flashes back to the conversation about taking Laura for granted, and Stiles feels stupid, sitting back further in his chair. He thinks for a moment about how Derek is keeping up with football in his crazy burnt out homes, and realizes abruptly that he knows very little about Derek’s life prior to last year when he showed up slinking in the shadows.

When dinner is over, the sheriff pointedly says, “Well, it’s kinda late, isn’t it boys?” Stiles is surprised that it really is, and how in the world did he spend upwards of fourteen hours with Derek in one day and feel as if it flew by? He feels a moment of panic, because Derek is getting up and leaving, and he thinks about how they never even had a real talk, and he needed to apologize for- when he meets Derek’s eyes and sees a small flicker upwards of his eyes, a tilt of a his head, a slight scrunch of his forehead, and a very small turn of his lips upwards. He’s asking, Meet you at your window in a few? Is that ok? And for a minute, Stiles is dizzy with how easily he read that, and then quickly nods. Then quickly turns the nod into a cough/ head scratch combo in case anyone else was looking. Which insures everyone looks. He picks up the trunk, which, god, is actually pretty heavy and says “I’ll start scanning these tonight. Thanks for coming over, guys.” Both Derek and Scott thank his dad, and leave together. Stiles runs up the stairs before his dad can say anything about helping with the dishes.

Stiles starts scanning one of the books of lore first, because it’s some kind of first edition full of awesome stuff he’s never heard before. But after ten minutes, he’s sitting on the floor with his back against the wall next to the window thumbing through the other papers. It’s another five minutes before he feels Derek climb in the window and sit next to him.

“What took you so long?” Stiles asks, coming across the “Hale Family Code” paper and stopping.

“Scott wouldn’t let me go. Kept questioning me about what we were doing all day, what my intentions were with you.”

That makes Stiles turn abruptly to face him, and wow, Derek’s really closer than he thought he was. He lets himself look for a minute, because Derek still has that look about him, the open look, where he makes eye contact and doesn’t look angry at the world. He takes a second to process that Scott thinks something romantic is going on, that Derek didn’t kick his ass or even really seem that offended at that idea, and that he is sitting, like five inches away from him in his bedroom at almost ten o’clock at night. 

He remembers suddenly, what he still needs to do, and he drops his gaze, clears his throat. “Look, I need to apologize for what I did, when me and Scott thought that you- and then we-“

The words stop in his throat when all of a sudden, Derek’s hand is on his arm. “Stiles, I know,” he says, barely a whisper. “You didn’t know who she was. You didn’t know who I was. I forgave you the moment you did it. I forgave you the moment you got in the cop car and started grilling me about werewolf shifting habits. I forgave you the moment you came to Isaac’s door yesterday. So stop apologizing.”

Stiles heart is racing, and he’s sure Derek can feel it. He is, after all, still touching him, and he doesn’t let go. After a moment, Derek says, “Read me the code. It’s been probably ten years since I’d heard it.” And then he shifts, moving his head against Stiles’ shoulder and moving his hand to rest against his leg. “Stiles, please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He clears his throat. “The Hale Family Code. Written by Talia Hale with contributions from Wes Hale as tolerated.”

He feels Derek smile against his shoulder. “My dad.”

“The Hale family holds pack as family, and reserves the right to kick family out of pack.”  
Derek scoffs “Mom never liked Uncle Peter.”

“We also reserve the right to pick our pack, from those around us that we love and hold in high regard, and wish to protect, love and know in the true sense of knowing.” 

Maybe Stiles feels Derek’s hand tighten slightly against his leg. 

He continues. “The Hale family does not seek power, money, political or personal gain. The Hale family does not gain anything at the expense of other’s losses. The Hale family does not take revenge. There is no place for hate in our hearts.” 

Stiles feels the unmistakable sense of dampness on his shirt and realizes all at once that Derek is quietly crying.

“The Hale family house will be a sanctuary.”

Stile’s voice wavers at the end of that sentence, and realizes might be crying a little himself. 

“The occupants of the Hale house will pick up after themselves, and not leave booby traps for each other” This part looks as if it was written in at a different time than the rest. “The occupants of the Hale house will appreciate each other as siblings and will be grateful they have each other when they are adults” 

Stiles puts the paper gently on top of his desk chair, and takes the hand Derek still has on his leg into both of his hands, squeezing tight. It’s like a switch is released, because Derek starts crying a little louder, and buries his face in Stiles’ neck. “God, Stiles. Where are they all?” It’s barely a whisper. Stiles moves a hand to the back of Derek’s neck, rubbing it soothingly, though he might be crying the same amount now. “Where did they all go?”  
*************************************************************************************

When Derek comes out of the bathroom, Stiles is fidgeting on his bed with five printed sheets of paper. Even after rinsing his face, Derek still looks wrecked, his eyes puffy and red and face blotchy. Stiles figures he doesn’t look much better, and realizes he doesn’t care. 

“What are you freaking out about in here?” Derek asks, sitting down in Stiles’ desks chair. “I could hear your heart beating from the bathroom. Your dad is asleep, so he didn’t catch me or anything.”

“Here,” Stiles says, handing over the papers, and then actually covers his eyes. “If you don’t want to look at them, you don’t have to. It’s just, you said-“

“What is this?” Derek is already reading the title at the top of the page, “Possibilities for Afterlifes, and Potential Ranking for Positive Fit for My Mother. Stiles is this-?” He flips through the pages. “Is this, god, how old were you to have made this-“ He raises his head then, looks at Stiles, who has stopped fidgeting, but now is rocking a little forward to back, gaze held on Derek, as if his reaction to this means everything. “Did you make a spreadsheet of possible afterlives based on different religions when you were eleven?”

“I was ten. And yes. Also, I included if she would like them or not. You know, like I figured she would be pretty bored in an eternal heaven, but she might prefer that to being reincarnated, in case there was a chance for coming back as a worm or something. Sorry, I should have taken that part off, so you could just have the different possibilities. You know, for where they are.”

Derek is looking at the third page, subtitled “Native American Cultural beliefs” when it hits him that Stiles printed this out for him because of what he said. He keeps his eyes locked onto the page, even though he’s not reading anymore, because he doesn’t trust himself to look up. Because he just realized he’s completely in love with this teenage boy. Who, at ten years old, instead of accepting the people who told him his mom was at peace in heaven, did hours of research and made a spreadsheet. Who spent a whole day with a cranky werewolf that has never said a kind word to him, just because he didn’t want him to be alone on the anniversary of his sister’s death. But the anxiety is still rolling off of Stiles, and Derek needs to say something.

“Can I borrow this?” The tightness of his voice surprises him. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He’s out the window before Stiles can say anything else. 

He waits in the driveway, until he hears Stiles’ heartbeat calm down, and hears the computer scanner start.  
*************************************************************************************

He doesn’t see Derek the next day. It’s the day after, the first day of school when Stiles gets a text message. It just says *September 6th?* And Stiles stops in the middle of the hallway, people bumping into him, a few swearing. He imagines that Derek had to go to the library and look that up. Or maybe he had asked Isaac, or maybe even Scott, and asked them not to tell. Whatever way, somehow Derek had done some work to figure out the day of his mother’s death. Now he was sending a text to tell him not only that, but asking him to spend the day with him. 

He texts back, *dumpster, behind the hospital, after breakfast*

Gets back *yeah, ok*  
**********************************************************************************

“I ran out here and threw up,” Stiles says, as Derek walks up behind him by the dumpsters. “Right after she died. I was holding her hand, and I felt her grip loosen, and let go. I was alone with her, my dad had been working, the nurses out at the station. Had my first panic attack right then, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t make a goddamn sound to save my own mother. I felt her turn into a dead body. I got out into the hallway and made some kind of crazy motion to the nurses to go in there, and then I ran outside and threw up right here.” He turns around to see Derek silent, just looking at him. “I’ve never told anyone that. No one else knows that I let her die.”

Derek makes a step towards Stiles, thinks about saying something, opens his mouth and shuts it again. He’s never seen Stiles so blunt, so angry, so closed off. He thinks about trying to convince him it wasn’t his fault, but knows the guilt he holds in his own chest and thinks better of it. It wouldn’t matter what he said. 

“But you know what?” Stiles says suddenly, louder than before, tipping his head back to the sky. “She was in a fucking hospital! With nurses and doctors and no one could fucking figure out what was wrong with her!” He punches the dumpster, and punches it again before Derek gets close enough to stop him and hold him from behind. 

“Stiles,” Derek says, softly, calmly, not trying to match volume or intensity. “Stiles,” he says again, and feels him wilt a little. “Let’s go to the next place.”

Stiles laughs, then, turns gently out of his grip, takes a deep breath, wipes his eyes. “Look, I can’t do the same thing you did, because I have no idea what you like. I mean, if you want to take me to the secret leather jacket, hair gel, stubble producing, chiseled muscle store you go to each day to look so perfect, you’ll have to drive, because I don’t know where it is.” With that, Stiles walks to Derek’s car and gets in the passenger seat. Derek stands stunned for a moment, watching him put his head in his hands inside the car before he can move to follow.

“Look,” Stiles says as soon as Derek gets in. “I don’t like, have a thing I do, or a place to go. Last year I went to school and Scott practically dragged me out after ten minutes of me slamming my locker door and yelling at people, and we spent the day throwing rocks at trees, because I wouldn’t let him take me home. Because the year before that, I stayed at home and practically went crazy with pacing in my room, feeling trapped, having like a million panic attacks. The year before that I went to her grave and ended up cut- Look this is stupid. Nothing’s going to help, just take me home.”

“So you can do what?”

Stiles lets his head hit the back of the seat and closes his eyes. “I don’t know, just-“ He holds his hands out in annoyance, like he needs to keep Derek at bay. “Just, I don’t know.”

“Where’s your dad?”

“I don’t know. We don’t do that. We can’t spend this day together. We do breakfast at the diner tomorrow morning. No matter what.” He puts his arm over his eyes.

“Well,” Derek taps his hands once on the steering wheel. “Do you want to go driving really fast in the mountains?”

Stiles doesn’t move his hands, but he smiles. “Yes.”

“Ok.”  
*************************************************************************************

“Oh my god, that was awesome!” Stiles laughs, as the Camaro skids to a sharp stop against the side of the rock wall, inches away from it. Derek is smiling, too, because he hasn’t taken the Camaro out like this in years. And he’s never been the one doing the driving. 

“Laura used to do this with me,” Derek says, and then thinks maybe he shouldn’t have said that. This is supposed to be Stiles’ day. But when he looks over, Stiles is looking at him as if he wants to hear more. “We went to New York after the fire, and on days when things got too much, she’d say ‘Let’s go for a drive.” And we’d drive out of the city, and into the mountains and just go really fast. And it felt better. I guess it still works.”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, it does. Can I try?”

Derek only hesitates a moment before he says, “Yeah.” 

But then Stiles is actually climbing over his lap, because yeah, okay, he can’t really open the door on his side, but oh my god, Stiles is all over him, pushing at his shoulders, knees on his thighs, until Derek realizes he needs to make some moves to get to the other side, instead of sitting there and enjoying that. Of course, it’s at that moment of realization, before Derek can put the ‘actually move’ plan into action that Stiles freezes. 

Their faces are really close together, and Derek can feel Stiles’ breath on his lips and thinks he needs to file that away for thinking about later, when all of a sudden Stiles’ lips are on his lips and his brain shuts down completely. All he can think about is the feeling of softness sliding against his own lips, and his hands go up, to hold onto both sides of Stiles’ head, because the only thought flashing way in the back of his mind is don’t let this stop. 

When Stiles pulls away, he looks like he is about to freak out, so Derek leans up again and kisses him again, once, quickly, then slides out from underneath him to the other seat, buckles his seatbelt, and says “Don’t crash her.”  
*********************************************************************************

When Stiles slams on the brakes, the car skids a little to the left and Derek momentarily actually fears them going over the edge. Stiles gets out of the car quickly, anger again rolling off of him in waves. Derek waits a moment and then gets out of the car. Stiles is looking out over the edge and Derek is thinking about his next plan. Maybe they can yell really loud and listen to the echo in the mountain, sometimes that feels good. When all of a sudden, Stiles is pushing Derek into the closest rock wall. He hits the wall abruptly and then Stiles is on him, going in for a kiss without hesitation. Derek can feel the anger in Stiles, but now it has morphed into this intensity of the kiss, where he’s actually sure of himself and not backing off with indecision. Derek lets out of a soft moan, relaxes against the rock and opens his legs slightly, enough for Stiles’ knee to push between his legs. 

He’s being intentionally submissive, because Stiles being intentionally dominant is all of a sudden hot as hell, and Derek doesn’t want him to stop. Stiles must know what it means because a sound comes out of him that is almost a growl and he pushes harder against Derek, pulling on his bottom lip between his teeth. Stiles has himself pushed up along Derek’s body like he’s holding him steady. Derek lets it go on for a while until Stiles seems to let go of something inside himself, deflates and leans his forehead against Derek’s and just breathes. 

“I’m hungry,” Stiles says suddenly, pushes off from the rock and starts walking back to the car.

“Yeah,” Derek answers, and takes a moment before he follows.  
***********************************************************************************

When they get to Isaac’s house, he’s already watching Back to the Future 3, and Derek hesitates in the doorway, looking at Stiles apprehensively, about to say that they can go somewhere else. Stiles is already sitting down when he catches Derek’s look and quickly says, “It’s fine. Reallly, this is good. Pizza?”

“Ooooh, stuffed crust?” Isaac says, hanging halfway off the couch and giving Derek puppy dog eyes. 

Stiles realizes he’s never seen Isaac so relaxed and happy, and thinks that if any of them had known this version of Isaac existed, they all might have realized the abuse he was enduring years ago. He gets a familiar stab of guilt.

“Dude, quit staring at me. I’m not going to make out with you too.”

Damn werewolves and their senses. Stiles is about to say something when Derek walks back in and says “Half an hour. I got your stupid stuffed crust.”

Later that night, Stiles tries to sleep in the guest room, but within ten minutes has the sheets twisted and can’t calm his heart beat. He sits on the side of the bed, and puts his head between his knees. There’s a soft knock on the door and then Derek walks in, takes his hand and pulls him up. When he hesitates, Derek puts his other hand on his shoulder and says softly, “Stiles, come on.”

They lay in the bed facing each other and Derek runs his hand over Stiles, softly down the side of his face, over his shoulder, grazing his arm, palm on his hip, up his back, over and over. Eventually Stiles’ breathing slows down. When he gets a couple of steady breaths out, he closes his eyes and feels the tears welling up, holding his breath for a moment to keep from crying. Derek leans forward, shifts his whole body closer, kisses his eyes, his nose, softly catches his bottom lip, doesn’t say a word.

When Derek wakes up, Stiles is gone. If he takes the long way to the grocery store to buy eggs, and happens to go by the dinner, and happens to see that Stiles and his dad are eating breakfast together, well, no one has to know.  
************************************************************************************

When Stiles knocks on Isaac’s door a week later, he’s holding the trunk, and is also not surprised when Derek opens the door. Derek lifts his eyebrows, but says nothing and walks away, leaving the door open. Stiles walks in and bypasses the kitchen where Derek disappeared and sits down with Isaac.

“Hey man,” Isaac says, as he is frantically pushing buttons shooting people on the screen.

“Hey,” Stiles says, and he’s a little uneasy. “You don’t mind me coming over so much, do you?”

Isaac gives him a sideways look like he’s crazy. “No. I’m glad when people come over. At first I couldn’t stand to be here at all. Eventually Derek started coming back with me, and everytime he’s here, and anyone else comes, its better. It’s changing the smell of the place. It’s starting to smell less like my dad, and more like Derek, and you, and Allison, and pack.” He quirks a little smile. “Also, there’s a bit of gay sexual tension that enters the air at certain times.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re an asshole.” But Stiles is getting up and getting something out of the trunk. “Is it ok if I hang this up?”

When Derek comes out of the kitchen, he’s actually got a dishtowel hanging out of his pocket, and Stiles would mock him for that, except his heart is in his throat, scared to death that Derek is going to be pissed at the fact that he’s hanging up a framed copy of the “Hale Family Code” in the hallway. Derek freezes when he sees it, and then looks to Stiles. He’s still for so long that Stiles starts to get uncomfortable, shifting back and forth between his feet. 

“If you don’t like it, I can-“

He doesn’t finish because Derek is pulling him in for a kiss and Stiles goes willingly, trying to keep his smile down enough to kiss him back. They hear shuffling from the living room, but Derek doesn’t pull away so neither does Stiles. 

“Funniest thing, Scott just called, so I’m going over there. All night. See ya.” Isaac skids to a stop just inside the front door, comes back and turns off the stove. “Ok, goodbye for the whole night!”

Derek breaks away after the door closes. His breathing is harsh, too fast. “Stiles,” he says, and then just closes his eyes, leaning their foreheads together.

“Yeah?” Stiles says, though he wasn’t sure if it was a question, or simply a statement of who he was.

Derek seems to shake himself a little bit. “Stiles, do you want to spend the night?”

“Well, seeing as though Isaac is coincidentally out for the night, I wouldn’t want you to be by yourself."

Derek rolls his eyes, grabs his hand and drags him up the stairs. He actually physically pushes him down the hallway and Stiles is almost giddy, a small chuckle threatening to rise up his throat. He stifles it- doesn’t think werewolves like to be laughed at prior to sexy times. Oh, sexy times, that makes the giddy come back.  
When Derek pushes Stiles down on the bed and climbs over him faster than human speed, he loses the impulse to laugh. Derek covers his mouth with his own and immediately deepens the kiss, sliding their tongues together, fitting their hips together. “Oh, fuck, Derek.”

Derek’s breathing heavily and his hips are moving against Stiles’ and he can feel them both, hard against each other. He reaches down, sliding his hands under Stiles’ shirt between them, thumb rubbing against the button on his jeans. “Is this ok?” And, wow, his voiced is wrecked, sounds desperate. “Stiles, please tell me if this is okay.”

It takes a moment for Stiles’ brain to kick back online that Derek is actually waiting for an answer. He can’t believe Derek actually wants him in this way, that it’s actually happening right now, and that he is actually concerned about Stiles' consent. “Yeah, god Derek, yeah. It’s ok. Everything’s ok. Whatever you want is ok.”

And then his pants are open and Stiles has enough sense to grab a hold of Derek’s pants to do the same and then they are hot, sliding against each other. Derek growls, and god that’s hot too, pushing down both their pants further until it’s skin pulling against all the right spots. Stiles has enough of a moment to think, oh god, Derek’s cock is touching me and then “Fuck, Derek, I’m gonna-“ and he’s coming.

Derek tightens his grip on Stiles’ hip and grinds down hard, once, like he was the one holding on for control and comes with a gasp. 

The lie still for a minute and then Stiles’ laugh finally bubbles up. 

“What?” Derek’s voice is muffled and irritated, but he doesn’t move from where his face is tucked into Stiles’ neck. 

“Nothing. It’s just. I finally get to touch you, and I come before I even get your shirt off.”

Derek actually huffs out a laugh, then seems to nuzzle closer to the spot right behind his ear. Stiles knows he’s smelling him, or them, or marking him, and any and all of the above turns him on. He shifts his hips again and Derek puts a hand on his hip to steady him. 

“Food first. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, sure, there’s a reason why the name of the song is Hungry Like the Wolf.”

Derek pulls off of him, hands him some tissues and raises an eyebrow.

“Hey, now that we’re officially-um- you know, I get to make all the wolf jokes I want. You won’t believe the Michael J. Fox ones alone that I have.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “As long as you never call me Jacob in bed.”

“Ha!” Stiles yells, as Derek is already halfway down the hallway. “I can’t believe you made that reference!”

Stiles cleans up in the bathroom before he goes back down the stairs. Derek has two plates of food in his hands, but he’s stopped, looking at the “Hale Family Code.” He startles, and blushes a little when he realizes Stiles is next to him. 

“Do you think it would be disrespectful to add to it?”

Stiles smiles. “Not at all. We’re all still Hale family. For as long as you’ll have us.” He takes one of the plates, and goes to the table. 

“You know,” he continues. “I keep my grades up in school because my mom was so smart. Going back to school was one of the last things we talked about.” 

“Really?” Derek says. “What did you mom like to study?”

For the first time, Stiles feels like he actually wants to talk about her, doesn’t get knots in his chest from thinking about her. He takes a deep breath between bites of food, finds the breath comes easily into his lungs from the air around him, wonders why it took him so long to figure this out, and starts talking about her.

**Author's Note:**

> http://stargirl776.tumblr.com/


End file.
